Harry Potter Wall Street Banker
by obsidianrapture
Summary: "Who could have imagined? Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived turned Wall Street Banker. Just the thought of it alone made Harry want to snort with laughter. Even he himself could not have imagined it, if not for the fact that he was stuck in a jam in the streets of New York, going nowhere despite the fastest Ferrari in the world. " A Harry/Ginny fic. :)
1. The Beginning

Harry Potter, Wall Street Banker. 

His scar was hurting again. It must be those pills, Harry thought. What good did they do if they cured his insomnia but made his scar hurt so much he couldn't sleep a wink? Harry cursed his doctor, therapist and the moron who invented such lousy medicine as he slammed his fist down onto the dashboard.

Harry was tired, angry and running late as usual. Ten years of driving had not made him any more patient with Muggle traffic. He hated it, even more than he hated Voldemort. Voldemort had, at least, been considerate enough to give him the chance to complete the year at Hogwarts before attacking him. This traffic wasn't even giving him the opportunity to be early for work for the first time in a month.

It had been a decade since Harry had left the wizarding world for the equally magical world of Muggle stockbroking. Who could have imagined? Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived turned Wall Street Banker. Just the thought of it alone made Harry want to snort with laughter. Even he himself could not have imagined it, if not for the fact that he was stuck in a jam in the streets of New York, going nowhere despite having the fastest Ferrari in the world.

As expected, Harry arrived fashionably late at his office in downtown New York.

"Hallo, Mister Potter! Would you like a cup of coffee to kickstart this lovely day?" Brenda, his over-enthusiastic secretary was already holding a steaming cup in her hand as she leaned against his office door in an unsuccessful attempt to look seductive.

"Oh, right. Thanks." Harry mumbled as he tore his eyes away from her and blushed as he tried to search for his cigar case. Said cigar case found, Harry drew out a cigar and stuck it in his mouth before lighting it with a well-practised flick of his lighter. Inhaling deeply, Harry leaned back into his chair and shut his eyes, sighing in contentment.

"How's the cigar, Mister Potter?"

Harry almost fell off his chair as he opened his eyes to reveal Brenda smiling widely at him, not two inches from his face.

"What in the name of...!? I thought you left! Why are you still here!?"

"I just wanted to remind you that you have a date later..."

"A date?!" The cigar fell out of Harry's mouth as he gaped at her, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. "What date?!"

"I mean, a date with your doctor! He called this morning but you weren't here, so i took a message for you. Remember to go for the appointment later! Love you, sweetie!" Brenda blew Harry a kiss before sashaying out of the room in a slightly disturbing manner.

Harry wondered if he should get a new secretary.

* * *

"Have you been taking your pills, Mr Potter?" Dr. Possible looked at him with an expression that was somewhere between concern and pity.

"Pills, oh right, pills! Yeah I guess I have..." Harry tried desperately to remember what pills he was talking about. Were they the red ones or the blue ones or the pink ones? There were the insomnia pills, and the depression pills...which ones were they?

" I hope you've been staying off the alcohol, Mr Potter. Your liver isn't getting any better, in fact, I was going to suggest you start looking very hard for a donor now. The national list is extremely long, and at the rate your body is failing you, I don't think you'll last to the end of the two years it'll take for you to get a donor from the list. In fact, I think two months is the most you've got if you don't get a transplant. This is a grave matter, Mr. Potter, you have to understand that it concerns your life..." Dr Possible's voice went on and on as Harry's eyelids got heavier and heavier.

"Mr. Potter, are you listening to me? MR. POTTER!"

"Don't do that! This is the only sleep I've had in the last two days!" Harry snapped as he jerked out of his slumber. "Right, so I'm going to die. Let me die then, what do you care as long as I pay you? Just leave me alone!" Harry stormed out of the room.

"That poor man….personality changes, irritability, fatigue, he's already showing all the symptoms of liver failure but he doesn't seem to care at all. I guess I won't be seeing much of him in the future. Not that I would care to see him again. " Dr Possible remarked to his assistant after Harry had slammed the door behind him.

Harry sat down at the bar table and asked for a glass of whisky. He couldn't help but feel sorry for himself. He had tried so hard all these years to make a name for himself and this was where all it had gotten him.

"Whassup, m'boy? Don't look so glum, here, have a rock cake." The bearded bartender plonked his whisky and a plate of rock cakes down onto the table and looked at Harry through his rose tinted (literally) glasses. The bartender reminded Harry of a smaller version of Hagrid – both were bearded, burly men with a passion for rock cakes that tasted exactly like rocks.

"I'm going to die in two months," Harry took a swig of his whisky, feeling it burn his throat as it made its way down to his broken and failing liver.

"That's not too bad, at least yer got two months left! Enjoy life while it lasts, m' boy, and yer won't die in regret."

The bartender smiled kindly at Harry, giving him a reassuring pat on the head. He had known this man for almost ten years now, and had never figured out what made a high-flying stockbroker like him keep coming back to his dingy, cramped pub. He did, however, hope fervently that it was his delicious rock cakes that did it.

Just then, Harry spotted Rob, the pub's resident drug dealer sitting alone in the corner. Great, he knew exactly what he needed to put himself out of this misery now.

"Hey Rob, got any weed to spare?"

* * *

Four hours later, Harry stumbled out of the pub smelling like a marijuana field and feeling on top of the world. Rob was his lifesaver. There wasn't any problem weed couldn't solve, was there? Harry smiled half heartedly to himself as the world swam around him in a myriad of colours and blurry shapes.

Harry staggered along the pavement, oblivious to the stares of curious passers-by around him. He couldn't, for the life of him, remember where he had parked his car.

"TAXI!" Harry hollered as he stood at the curb, sticking out his right arm and flailing it like a drowning man. "KNIGHTBUS! WHERE IS THE F****** KNIGHTBUS!"

But it was a ordinary yellow taxi, not the glaring purple Knight Bus that drove up to Harry and stopped in front of him. He managed to get all his limbs into the taxi safely into the taxi before shutting the door, mumbling his address to the driver and drifting off into unconsciousness.

Harry had no idea how he got home, but when he woke up, he was lying on his own doorstep in a crumpled heap. He tried, and failed to locate his keys (which were in his briefcase still lying on the bar table) and had to resort to climbing into his house through a side window, which made for a very painful and sobering experience. At moments like these, Harry regretted deeply his decision to snap his wand and stay off magic forever.

He retracted those thoughts in a while after a long soak in his whirlpool Jacuzzi to the background music of a certain Johann Sebastian Bach, his favourite Muggle musician. One simply could not get the same luxury having a dip in the Weasleys' bathtub to the heart wrenching and ear splitting tunes of Celestina Warbeck.

With a glass of champagne in one hand, Harry toasted himself silently he watched the numbers on the stock market change on his laptop. Yet another windfall, he thought, I must be really good at this. He always felt good about being talented at something else other than Quidditch and defeating Voldemort (which depended on luck and a good deal of Felix Felicis, as he used to tell everyone).

His imminent death could wait. For a moment, Harry believed he wasn't really going to die. He had been the only survivor of a Killing Curse, for Merlin's sake, a LIVER wasn't going to bring him down that easily. He brushed off all of death and started up the music. He was going to party his night away, and no one would stop him. Not that anyone wanted to, anyway.

Harry went to retrieve his car the next day after recalling that he had (illegally) parked it two blocks away from the pub. Crossing his fingers and praying that it had not been towed away, he set out on a mission to locate his beloved Ferrari.

It was a miracle that the car was still there, given that it was bright red and extremely noticeable. Jogging up to his car, Harry ran his fingers down the bonnet, sighing in relief. Just as he was about to get in, he realised something incredibly, incredibly stupid.

He had forgotten to bring his car keys.

Harry felt like stamping his foot in a fit of childish anger, but restrained himself just in time. It would not do for a wealthy stockbroker to be seen throwing a tantrum on the streets. But he wanted to throw more than just a tantrum, he felt like he could hurl the Incredible Hulk over half of New York City in his anger.

"HOW COULD I BE SO STUPID!" He howled silently.

"Harry? Ohmygosh, Harry it's you!"

Harry spun around.

"Ginny?"

It had to be her – it couldn't be anyone else. There wasn't a single person in New York who could make his heartbeat accelerate faster than his Ferrari – nobody except for Ginny Weasley. Harry wondered how she had managed to look exactly the same all these years, and was suddenly painfully conscious of his expanding waistline and crow's feet.

"I haven't seen you in such a long time! Where did you go all these years?"

"I, uh, I've been hanging around," Harry said, somewhat lamely, as a fleeting desire to grab her and kiss her as passionately as he could took over his mind before he could come up with something better.

"That's …interesting! Oh, I am SO sorry but I've to meet someone now! We'll catch up some other time, alright!" Ginny turned to leave and Harry's heart sank all the way to his toes.

"Why don't I give you a lift? I've got loads of time to spare! Oh wait…but I don't have my car keys…." Harry felt like the biggest fool in the world. What kind of man offered a lady (or the girl of his dreams) a ride in a car he didn't have the keys to?

"Why don't you just summon them? Accio car keys!" The car keys came zooming around the corner, over the heads of a few oblivious Muggles and landed neatly in Ginny's outstretched hand. She handed them to him with a heartbreakingly beautiful smile that made his heart flutter in delight.

"Actually, I've sworn off magic. The whole 'Chosen One' thing was getting to me, you see and I….I...wait! You're in a car! Don't witches use Apparition to get around?"

"Don't use 'witches' like you're not a wizard yourself, Harry! Apparition gets boring after a while, and it's not every day I get to ride in a Ferrari, you know! Could you drive me to Rockefeller, please? I'm meeting Dean there to discuss our wedding plans," Ginny said brightly, unaware of the devastation she had just caused Harry's heart.

Harry slammed on the brakes and the car screeched to a halt.

"Wedding plans!? You're getting married?" He spluttered in disbelief as he turned to look at her.

"Dean and I are getting married in October. You remember Dean, right? Your roommate?"

"Right…RIGHT. Congratulations, then, and….." His voice trailed off as he started up the car again.

And if I told you I loved you, would you accept me again? Harry didn't know what to feel. A thousand emotions seemed to be running through him at the same time – a horrible mixture of regret, guilt, anger and frustration, and it didn't help that merely seeing her reflection on the rear-view mirror made him crazy with love and desire.

The journey to Rockefeller had never seemed so short.

Pulling up at the car park opposite Rockefeller, Harry heard the purring of the car's engine stop, and felt as if a part of his heart had died along with the engine. This was the end. But he couldn't let it all end here, he had to try. One last time.

"I'm going to die, Ginny." He whispered, leaning in closer to her. " The doctors say I only have two months left. Stay with me till the end, will you?"

Before she could react, he had pulled her into his embrace, wrapping his arms forcefully around her, willing her to melt into him as she had done so many years ago at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts. The word sounded so strange, unfamiliar, even bitter. But it was the place he had met her and loved her and he would never be able to forget it.

Harry buried his face into her hair, inhaling her scent deeply as if it were a life sustaining. He had never known how much he needed her till now.

" I love you," he breathed. She was here with him now, and everything would be fine. Everything would be just fine.

To Be Continued...


	2. The Middle

A/N: Thank you for all the reviews, likes and follows! :)

Everything was not fine. Harry realised that only when Ginny struggled out of his grasp and gave him a resounding slap across the cheek.

"I'm getting married next month, Harry, and I hope you'll respect that. If you think that coming up with a lame excuse like 'I'm going to die' is going to make me forgo the happiness Dean can give me, then you're very wrong. I thought ten years would have made you more mature, but apparently, relationships-wise, you're still as childish as ever."

"But, I…"

But it was all too late. Ginny had slammed the car door behind her.

Harry sank back into the cushy seats of the Ferrari resignedly. Looking at Ginny walking down the pavement, away from him, he was suddenly aware that he had just lost the most important thing in his life.

Since he left the wizarding world, Harry had tried his best to be content with life. No longer the Chosen One, he had worked hard based solely on his own merit. Nobody at his Muggle workplace judged him, gave him pitying looks or expressed their heartfelt condolences regarding the death of his parents and friends in the two wizarding wars. He had been heartily glad that no one demanded to see his scar (kept well hidden under a carefully groomed fringe) or reminded him that he had his mother's eyes. He could finally live the normal life he had always wanted. Yet, regardless of his successes at the workplace and his swift ascension of the corporate ladder, Harry had always felt like something was missing in his life. It wasn't Ron and Hermione, that was for sure, for he often found their incessant talk about marriage and house elves and Hogwarts meaningless. It was something else he had left behind with all the spells and the magic, something he couldn't really put his finger on.

Until now.

It was Ginny. That void in his life had all along been a Ginny-shaped hole through which everything he achieved had drained, until he felt like he had nothing left. He would have gladly given up everything – his job, his car, his house, even the ridiculously expensive Picasso painting he had wanted for the longest time and had recently acquired – just for her to come back to him.

* * *

Harry found himself in the pub again, downing shot after shot of vodka under the sympathetic gaze of the bearded bartender.

"You shouldn't be here, m'boy. Why spend your last two months in this world drinkin' away here and getting' yerself all sloshed? Go out and enjoy yer life m'boy! Besides, all this drinkin' isn't going to get you nowhere," The bartender finally spoke after Harry gulped down his seventh shot of vodka and raised his hand for more.

Instead of placing another set of shots in front of Harry, the bartender served up a plate of freshly baked rock cakes that looked exactly like bricks.

"I asked for shots, not rock cakes."

"All drinkin' and no eatin' isn't good for yer, boy! Have a rock cake first! Don't yer just love these cakes, m'boy?"

Harry took one bite into the rock cake. It felt like he was trying to chew the bar a few ominous cracks from his back teeth, Harry decided to give up on the cakes. He didn't think he was ready for dentures yet.

Fearing the wrath of the bearded bartender when he realised that his rock cakes had been left uneaten, Harry decided to slip out quickly before the bartender was done mixing up a new batch of drinks. Leaving a wad of notes on the counter, he slipped off the bar stool and made a run for the exit, only to crash headfirst into Drug Dealer Rob.

"Hey, boy? I've got a new batch of weed, want some? Top quality stuff, you can't get anything like these anywhere else."

"Um…sure! How much do you have?" Weed sounded good to Harry. In fact, anything that could take his mind off Ginny and leave him in a delirious, half conscious state sounded good to him. He just needed something, anything that could erase the images of Ginny that were replaying over and over again in his head.

Rob motioned for Harry to follow him and the two of them headed into the back alley behind the pub. As they were walking, a sudden thought struck Harry. He had seen Rob countless times at the pub, but he never knew what the guy looked like. Somehow, Rob was always wearing some sort of hood or hat or scarf that obscured almost his entire face. Harry had never seen his face before, in fact, he couldn't even remember what colour his eyes were.

Rob stopped abruptly in the middle of the alley, and Harry, still deep in thought, bumped into him.

"Watch where you're going!" He hissed as he spun around to face Harry.

"Sorry…sorry…" A strange fear gripped Harry's heart as he stared directly into the shadows that covered Rob's face. There was something eerily familiar about this man that made Harry instinctively afraid of him. Although his instincts were screaming at him to get the hell out of the place, Harry held his ground. Surely Rob would not hurt him? They had been visiting the same pub for years after all, if Rob had wanted to kill him, he would have done so years ago.

Just then, Rob removed his hood.

Harry gasped.


	3. The End

A/N: This is the final chapter of Harry Potter, Wall Street Banker. I hope you've enjoyed this fic! :) I'll be taking a hiatus for my exams and I'll be back in December with a new HP fic :) Thank you for all the likes and reviews and follows!:)

There was no mistaking the slit eyes and the ghastly skull-like face. Harry's hand went instinctively to his wand – until he remembered that his wand had probably been recycled into writing paper after he had carelessly dumped the broken pieces into a recycling bin a decade ago.

"Remember me, Harry?" The voice was cold and clear.

"You're dead!" Harry couldn't believe his eyes (and his luck.) Voldemort?! Voldemort had tracked him to New York? And hung out with him at the same pub for years?! This was so ridiculous, but yet he couldn't deny the fact that Voldemort was indeed standing in front of him.

"You think you're the only one who can leave the wizarding world behind, Potter? You think you're the only one who can turn yourself into a Muggle? " Voldemort sneered.

That Voldemort looked like a grinning snake when he smiled was the first thought that came to Harry's mind.

"Wait, you mean you're a Muggle now? You're kidding, right? Aren't Muggles and half bloods beneath you, o mighty Dark Lord?" Harry found this situation entirely absurd. Voldemort and Muggles went together like salt and slugs.

"Do I look like I enjoy fooling around with you, Potter?"

Yes, Harry thought, didn't you do that to me seven years in a row before?

"I've been waiting for this moment, Potter, ten years, I've been waiting. I swore I'd kill you, and I will make good my promise today."

"Kill me? You're such a joker. Look, I've no idea how you've resurrected yourself, risen from the grave, whatever, but you're not a wizard anymore and I don't see how you can Avada Kedrava me now."

"Potter, Potter, Potter, you seem to have forgotten that there's not only one way to kill a man. Your mother's love and Dumbledore's nonsense saved you from my Killing Curse, but I'm afraid those won't be any help against a bullet." Voldemort pulled out a silver shotgun from his pocket and pointed it straight at Harry.

Damn, Harry thought, he's got a gun!

Harry had never been held at gunpoint in his entire life. Wandpoint, yes, but gunpoint, never. He was good at ducking curses and hexes, but he wasn't sure how to dive out a bullet's path. He hadn't exercised in a decade and his reflexes and quick reactions from his teenage days were probably all lost to years of long hours in an office chair. To make things worse, he couldn't even disarm Voldemort now.

Harry swore loudly.

"Language, Potter, language. I see you've not changed much from the reckless, immature teenager you were," Voldemort laughed, keeping his gun trained on Harry the whole time.

"DON'T CALL ME IMMATURE!" Harry bellowed. Immature, immature, was that what he really was? It was enough for Ginny to use that word as a reason to reject him, now even his greatest enemy was using it against him. A fit of anger gripped him, and with a sudden burst of courage (or recklessness), Harry lunged at Voldemort and the impact caused the both of them to fall backwards.

The gun clattered out of Voldemort's hand and lay innocently in a corner as the two of them twisted and grappled with each other on the ground.

"Go to hell, you vile, perverse stalker! Stop coming into my life!" Harry shouted as he seized Voldemort's neck. It felt surprising warm and human-like, unlike the usual cold and slippery skin he had become accustomed to feeling when he tried to get physical with Voldemort.

He had the upper hand now, and he was going to kill this man once and for all. As Harry prepared to tighten his grip on Voldemort's throat and strangle the life out of him, a sudden pain in his side made him double over in pain.

He fell back, gasping as the pain consumed him and blinded him so much, he never saw how Voldemort stood up and reached for the gun.

He didn't even hear the gunshot.

* * *

What he knew, however, was the wet sticky sensation spreading down the front of his shirt. Someone was laughing manically somewhere.

Have…to…get…help…

He somehow managed to get onto his feet and staggered along the alley, feeling the rough walls under his fingertips, tripping and stumbling along the way. The pain was too much, it was like a fire burning inside him, eating away at his insides, taking him slowly.

He saw it at last, the crowded, bustling street in front of him and willed himself to walk a little further, if what he was doing could even be considered walking.

Two…steps…more…

Then, the second gunshot rang out and the floor came rushing up to meet Harry's face.

* * *

And suddenly, Harry was sixteen years old again, sitting on the grassy bank beside the lake. The silhouette of the Whomping Willow was cast against the backdrop of the midnight sky, filled with thousands and thousands of stars that gleamed and twinkled, but none of them were as bright or mesmerising as the eyes of the girl who sat beside him. Their fingers were entwined together, his palm against hers.

"I can't make you stay here with me, Ginny, not when I know he's coming to kill us all, I can't…"

She placed a slender finger upon his lips, stopping him mid sentence.

"I love you," she said simply, before her lips brushed against his and all that was left was her scent and her touch and the beating of their hearts.

I love you. I love you. Those three words seemed to reverberate through Harry's mind, even as he drifted in between memory and reality.

"I love you."

Harry opened his eyes and his heart exulted when he realised that she was really there, leaning over him, uttering those words. He could not see her clearly, but he knew it was her. How could it be anyone else?

I love you too, he wanted to say, to reach out to her and wipe those tears from her cheeks, and hold her and comfort her. But his arms felt as though they had been filled with lead, and try as he might, he couldn't move a single muscle.

There was no more pain anymore, only numbness. It felt like the time Lockhart had de-boned him on the Quidditch pitch – only this time, the numbness was all over him. Lockhart. Harry wondered where he was now. Was he still in St. Mungo's?

St. Mungo's. If only he had been a wizard. They could have gone to St. Mungo's and he wouldn't be lying in the street now, being subjected to the glances and stares of curious passers-by.

Don't look at me, Harry tried to say, as he made a feeble attempt to raise his hand and wave them away. I'm not the Chosen One, don't look at me. But they stared and Harry's head was suddenly filled with images of wizards staring at him with open eyed curiosity, in Diagon Alley, at King's Cross, in the Great Hall… They were all looking at him, looking at his scar, looking at Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived.

I'm going to die, Harry realised, as Ginny's face swam in and out of focus. She was saying something, screaming perhaps, at the top of her voice, but everything was drowned out by the blaring sirens and the chatter of the pedestrians who had formed a crowd around Harry, watching as the life ebbed out of him. This is ironic, he thought, I'm not going to be the Boy who Lived anymore.

Thinking was making him tired, and a terrible sleepiness was coming over him. He fought to keep his eyes open, to look at Ginny for just a little longer, even if her face was just a blurry smudge against the myriad of colours that were the streets of New York, but he was fighting a losing battle. His eyelids shut, and Harry fell back into an abyss of darkness.

"No, Harry! Wake up, wake up, Harry, and I promise you we'll be together again! I haven't stopped loving you all these years, but I couldn't tell you! Can you hear me? Harry? Harry!"

But it was too late.

-END-


	4. Epilogue

A/N: After much deliberation, I decided to write an epilogue for the fic in which Harry does NOT die! It's an addition, really, the story runs fine with or without this chapter:)

Harry blinked. There was white everywhere and it was surprisingly quiet.

I must be in heaven, he thought, I've really died and gone to heaven this time. Harry had a sudden vision of himself growing angel wings, flapping about playing on a harp, and was rather disgusted.

"Oh Harry, you've come to! "

A voice came floating in from far away and Ginny's face appeared above him. His visions of turning into an angel disappeared as suddenly as they had come and were replaced by the desire to reach up and kiss her on the lips.

"Ginny? why are you here? Did he shoot you too? " Harry appeared to be concerned, but deep inside, he thought of spending eternity with her brightened his mood considerably.

"I think you've got a concussion. Strange, they didn't detect that just now. Lie down, Harry and don't move while I go get the Healers." Ginny gave him a pat on the head and pulled the covers up around him before disappearing out of his field of vision altogether.

Moments later, Ginny reappeared with a doctor beside her. A doctor who looked suspiciously like... the bearded bartender.

"You!" Harry spluttered.

"Bartending's only me part time job, m'boy! I'm usually a Healer at St. Mungo's."

"Right, and you're going to tell me you're actually Hagrid with a medical degree."

" You're almost right there, m'boy. Hagrid's me first cousin twice removed!" The bearded bartender smiled widely at Harry.

Harry gaped in amazement. He never knew Hagrid had a Healer cousin. In fact, despite having known Hagrid for close to twenty years now, he hadn't ever heard of Hagrid having ANY cousins at all.

"Don't open and close your mouth like a goldfish, m'boy, the Nargles will get in there! And yer don't want Nargles in yer, not when we've got yer all nicely patched up!" said Hagrid 's Healer cousin, giving Harry's hair a gentle ruffle.

"I don't think he's got a concussion, Miss Weasley, he's just a tad confused now. Why don't we get Mister Dumbledore to make things a lil' clearer to him, and I daresay he'll be right as rain! " The Healer propped Harry up on a stack of fluffy pillows and left the room, returning with a large gilt framed portrait of Dumbledore, which he placed in Harry's arms.

"Hello, Harry." Dumbledore looked as if he hadn't aged a single day since they last met. In fact, with a large purple and gold hat perched jauntily on his head and purple highlights in his beard, he looked a century younger.

"Professor? Why are you dressed like that? "

"Dead people have to keep up with the times too, Harry! I can't have people looking at my portrait and saying what an old fashioned codger I am! I know your head's probably overflowing with questions, but don't worry, I'm not going to let them go unanswered. Feel free to yell at me any time you want, but try not to wake up the other patients. Our old friend Gilderoy Lockhart's just next door, you might want to pay him a visit when you've got your bandages off."

"Yell at you? I…I wouldn't do that, Professor! You're the Headmaster after all…."

Dumbledore twirled his purple streaked beard thoughtfully as he seemed to ponder Harry's response. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke.

" Firstly, the one thing you must be dying to know - Where's Voldemort? He's been captured by the Muggle police, they are extremely efficient, even without Floo and Apparition, I must say. Unfortunately, I was just informed minutes ago that's he's been released on bail, so his whereabouts remain unknown for now."

Dumbledore took a swig of wine from the glass that had somehow appeared in his hand, before continuing.

"Secondly, you must want to know why Hagrid's cousin has been befriending you all these years. The reason behind that is because I made him do that. Surely you didn't think I was going to let you wander off into the Muggle world all by yourself, Harry? You were a grown up, but an impulsive and hot-headed one. I couldn't possible allow you, the Chosen One, to go off wreaking havoc amongst the Muggles! So I sent Hagrid's cousin off to look after you and make sure you were doing alright…"

"You SPIED on me?! Stalker! " Harry yelled. Why did everyone want to follow him wherever he went?

" Temper, Harry, temper. You just got four ribs repaired and a new liver put in, you don't want to be shouting around like that. Goodness, you were always fond of yelling and shouting back in Hogwarts, I can't believe you're still the same now. I still remember that time when you broke all the instruments in my office in a fit of rage. Oh, those were the days! " Dumbledore chuckled merrily to himself, oblivious to Harry's thunderous expression.

Harry had never felt so cheated all his life. He thought he'd successfully cut off all ties with wizards and magic, but Dumbledore had been keeping an eye on him all along. He couldn't even escape the scrutiny of a dead man! Harry felt like digging a hole in the ground and leaping into it and disappearing forever.

"You…how can you do this to me? All I wanted was a new life!" Harry howled in misery as he resisted the sudden urge to punch his fist through the portrait. Why was everyone so intent on following him everywhere?

"Come back to the wizarding world, Harry. If you can't beat us, why not join us?" Ginny said quietly from his bedside, "Look, I even got you a new wand."

Sure enough, there on her outstretched hand, was a new wand, almost identical to his old one.

"Eleven inches, holly, dragon heartstring core."

Harry picked up the wand cautiously, and was suddenly reminded of his experience in Ollivander's wand shop all those years ago. Sure enough, he felt that familiar tingling sensation as he closed his fingers around the wand, and something told him that this wand had been made for him.

"Do you want me to?" Looking into Ginny's eyes, now warm and reassuring, Harry realised that he had already made the decision long before he asked that question. He gazed at her, taking in every detail of her face while he could, waiting for the answer.

"I love you."

Dumbledore's portrait tumbled backwards and fell face down onto the floor as Harry pulled Ginny into his arms. There was no turning back now. Everything was going to change, but everything was going to be fine.

"I love you too."

-END-

A/N 2: In case anyone was wondering, Harry's new wand is the same as his old wand, but it has a dragon heartstring core like Ginny's, instead of the phoenix feather one.


End file.
